Sienna Trets Whore ❤️

About Nice

Funny thing. Heard a story. From a snitch. Whore. Used to sing. In some dive bar. Voice like velvet. Can ya believe it? Now. She’s screamin’. At johns. Or cryin’. Alone. Saw her. Last Tuesday. High as hell. Mutterin’. “Ass to ass!” Okay. Not that. But close. Dope’s her tyrant. Like Marion. In the movie. Ruins her. Every damn day.

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So, I’m walking down Rue des Écoles, trying to shake off the bird drama. I see my buddy, Jean, selling his handmade crafts. He’s got these cool little trinkets, right? I’m checking them out, and he’s all hyped about his new line of “eco-friendly” stuff. I’m like, “Dude, you’re in Trets, not Paris Fashion Week.” But he’s passionate, so I just nod and smile.

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